


welcome to eden

by free_cookiesx



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Redemption, wilbur gets a soft redemption with the help of phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/free_cookiesx/pseuds/free_cookiesx
Summary: Wilbur opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again."Phil, do I deserve to be redeemed?"In which Wilbur finds that redemption is, in fact, not as easy as he would like.
Relationships: for real though shippers dni, ooo you wanna leave me a comment so bad ooo, you/the comment section
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90





	welcome to eden

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this fic is based on [Welcome to Eden by Samia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GrZIxEymJc), and it's a very good song it made me cry
> 
> please tell me if this breaks any creator's boundaries, and i'll take it down! <3

Phil stands there, in the small cavern that Wil had dug out. 

With Wilbur's last words he had warned Phil of Techno's plan, and Phil _knew_ he had to get to the others, but for a moment he stands there. 

This is where he had killed his family, his oldest son. Sure, Wilbur was going to respawn, but the moments before were the most heartbreaking ones in his life.

Wilbur had begged Phil to kill him and Phil- 

Phil _did._

Phil was familiar with death. He'd seen it time and time again, that was the cost of going into hardcore worlds, you needed to find ways to survive, to learn to live with loss, to keep the things near and dear to you _safe._

He'd failed to do so with his sons.

Wilbur had gone and started a war with Tommy, dragging Techno along, all while Phil watched and didn't do anything to stop them. He could have knocked some sense into his sons, he thinks, but he shakes those thoughts away. He's got to stay focused now. 

He stumbles through L'Manberg, calling out a warning to the others to no avail. Withers rise above the land, and all Phil can do from this point is fight them from afar, sending arrows upon arrows down to their spots in the valley. Explosions were ringing in his ears, and everything he had tried to prevent was whirling around in a flurry of anarchy. 

When the withers finally, _finally_ died, Phil sets down his bow, walking through the destroyed land with hazy eyes, finding his way over to Tommy and Tubbo. He greets them with a wave and looks out at the destruction of the land. 

Everything that Phil had seen through video calls and pictures was gone. The festival grounds were reduced to ashes, and even Tommy's house was nothing but cobblestone at this point. Speaking of, he looks at the two boys, checking them over for injuries. There are a few scrapes, a little bit of damaged clothing, but there's nothing that can't be fixed with some bandages and a little bit of care. He passes them both healing potions he had nabbed from a corner in the bunker, and watches as their wounds clear up. 

They sit like that for a moment, patching themselves up and giving each other support as they try and wash away the dirt and muck from their bodies. After all that, though, Phil didn't expect Tubbo to be the one to start up conversation. 

"Prime, it's really all gone, isn't it?" Tubbo murmurs. He sets a hand on the fence that marks L'Manberg's borders. "Just like that."

"Yeah. But it'll heal," Phil reassures him. "It can be fixed."

Tommy digs a roll of bandages out of his back pocket and passes them to Tubbo. "Here, you prob'ly need them more than I do." 

Tubbo nods and takes them, patching up an arrow wound in his arm. Phil feels a pang in his heart. These boys should have had to grow so numb to violence and pain, they shouldn't have had to grow up this fast. They shouldn't have had to experience war _ever._ But he keeps his anger to himself for now, and he helps Tubbo out with his bandage. 

"Congratulations on your Presidency, Tubbo," he says offhandedly. "I can't think of anyone better for the job."

Tubbo hums in acknowledgement and looks him up and down. "What- what happened to you?"

Phil finally looks down at himself, the red stains that were ever-so prominent on his green overcoat, the blade held in his weary hands. "After- after Wilbur blew up L'Manberg he begged me to kill him. It didn't really do anything, he's still going to respawn, but I think he's going to be done blowing up nations for the time being."

It was silent for a moment, the kids taking a moment to process exactly how Wilbur was taken down. Tommy seems to fold into himself, and Tubbo moves a bit closer to his friend. They gave each other a _look_ , one that Phil couldn't quite understand, but one that he knew came from the throes of intense war. 

"So... What's going to happen now?" Tommy says after a bit of hesitance. 

Phil sighs. "I'm going to collect Wil from the world's Spawn. Take him _home_. Do some self-reflection bullshit or whatever. I'm hoping it'll help him out." He stretches, finally putting his sword in the hilt at his side. He looks down at a tug on his sleeve, seeing a Tommy far too traumatized for a sixteen-year-old looking far too old. 

"Take care of him, Dad," he mumbles. Phil pauses and sweeps his youngest into his arms, giving him a hug with wings and all. 

"I'll do my best, Tommy." 

When Tommy pulls away, Phil gives a nod to the boys, seeing the other members of L'Manberg making their way towards them. He spreads his wings and takes off. He in the direction of Spawn, where he can see the telltale golden lights of a player respawning beginning to glow. 

When he lands, he finds Wilbur passed out, underneath a tall spruce tree. Phil picks him up gently, taking care not to jostle him in a way that could cause residual pain to spike. 

"Come on, Wil," He murmurs. "Let's get you home."

**_~*~_ **

When Wilbur finally stirs, he's disoriented. That's fair, Phil thinks, he was off before and then he died, passed out after he respawned, and then woke up in an unexpected place. So again, perfectly reasonable. 

But that doesn't mean he can't be worried. 

Wilbur jolts awake, immediately hostile. He stumbles out of bed, almost tripping on the bedsheets, and reaches for a sword on his hip that isn't there. Wilbur's eyes look around frantically, searching for a sign of danger, and when he finds none he finally sees Phil leaning against the doorway. "Wh- Phil?"

"Hey, Wilbur." Phil stands up, sitting down in a chair that's facing the bed. "How're you doing?"

"Phil, _why am I here_? I should be _gone_ , I should be _captured_ , _imprisoned_ , I should be-" 

"Safe," Phil interrupts. "and cared for. You've taken to declining awfully fast, Wil, we can't have you doing that anymore. You've got to rest." 

"Phil-" 

"Wil." 

"I can't _be here_ , I've got to be with the others, I have to be there with them!" 

"No, you don't." 

Wilbur glares at Phil, who gestures for him to have a seat on the bed. He folds his arms and sits angrily, hands twitching and yearning for a sword or an axe of _something_. Phil leans back and crosses his legs in front of him in a manner that he tries to make seem stern, but is subtly is worried and caring. 

"So. You don't think you deserve to be here." 

"I didn't say _that_ ," Wil mutters. 

"No, but I know you better than anyone here. You don't think you deserve to be here. Why?" 

Wilbur takes a deep breath. "I committed _war crimes_ , Phil. I don't _deserve_ peace."

Phil touches Wilbur's foot with his own. "Yeah you do," he says. "You've gone through so much, Wil, and I think you need a break. Reflect on yourself. Make sure you know that you're able to get better. I'm going to make sure that you get the care you need, alright?"

Wilbur shrugs. Phil looks at his son, at his disheveled nature, at the dirt smudged on his cheeks, and sees his son, a little broken and in need of love. He reaches out and places a comforting hand on Wilbur's knee. 

"You're going to be okay, Wil. I'll make sure of it." 

**_~*~_ **

Phil didn't normally make breakfast. He usually didn't eat breakfast, opting for a sort of light brunch later in the day. A granola bar, or a sandwich if he was feeling a bit more hungry.

But this, he knew, was a very special occasion. His son was staying with him! Sure, the circumstances were less desirable than normal, but Wilbur hadn't even been home to _visit_ in _months_! Sure, there was a war, sure, there was trauma, but he didn't really think the means were important to this particular end.

Phil knows Wilbur generally wakes up early, war had busy, full-day schedules, so he walks up the stairs and down the hall. There, he finds Wilbur stood in the doorway, gently swaying, as if he was deciding whether or not to go outside of his room.

"Wil? You okay?"

At this, Wilbur shook out of his stupor and swallowed nervously. "I- uh. I don't know."

"If you want me to bring breakfast up here, I can."

You- you made breakfast?" Wilbur looks and sounds like he's poking fun, but Phil recognizes it as deflecting.

"Yeah," Phil says. "Do you want to eat it up here or downstairs at the kitchen table?"

Wilbur furrows his eyebrows, formulating a response. "I'll come down in a bit. It just will take a little bit before I'm ready, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." Phil shifts and places a hand on Wilbur's arm. "I'll get a plate ready for you, yeah?"

"That... sounds nice. Thanks, Phil."

Phil leaves him to go fix a plate, and when he comes back to check on him a few minutes later, he finds Wilbur crumpled on the ground. 

He immediately swoops in, gently placing the plate on the ground before wrapping Wilbur in his arms, gathering him in his wings. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Phil murmurs, gently running his fingers through Wilbur's hair. 

"I- I can't do it. I'm sorry, I just-" Wilbur turns away, cutting himself off. "It's just a bit too domestic for me to get into all at once. I went from living in a ravine to living _here_ , breakfast in the morning it just-

"I know," Phil says. "I'll bring your plate up here, I don't want to rush you into something you aren't ready for."

"I should be able to go out of my room," Wilbur says quietly. "This is stupid."

"Hey, everyone has their bad days. _You included_. If you want me to stay in this room I can, if you want me to leave you alone I can. Recovery is a tough path, you're going to have bad days before you get better." Wilbur stayed quietly in his father's arms for a little bit. "Wil, the pancakes are going to go cold. Can I go get them while you make yourself more comfortable?"

Wilbur nods and unfolds himself to go get into his bed. Phil goes to grab the meal, and when he hands the plate to his son Wilbur had surrounded himself in blankets.

"You've made yourself a little hovel, I see."

Wilbur laughs. "I guess." He holds the plate in his hands for a second before placing it on his knees. Phil watches him eat for a minute, before asking his question again.

"Do you want me to stay in the room?"

When Wilbur doesn't respond he goes to leave, but he turns around at the meekest "Don't go." from his oldest son. Phil gets on the bed and pulls a book from off the shelves, fully aware of Wilbur reading over his shoulder.

"This book is so dusty, Wil, we need to dust off your shelves."

Wilbur nods and takes another bite of the pancakes, content to sit with his father for the morning. 

**_~*~_ **

Needless to say, Phil kept true to his word and was helping Wilbur clean up his room for the first time in months. Through the haze of dust and crumpled clothing, there was a lot of work to be done, they both knew. They sectioned off the room, letting Wilbur sort through the clothes and notebooks, while Phil worked on the broken toys and dusting off ceramic bookshelf ornaments. 

"Prime, Wil, look at this, remember these books?" Phil asks, turning around with a small book in his hands. "This is so small, I think you must have been at least-" 

He cuts himself off when he sees Wilbur. He's looking at a worn yellow sweater in his hands, standing still, deaf to everything around him. Phil looks at his eyes, at the internal conflict there, and sees that his son has not worn something as soft or as comforting as this sweater in a long time. 

"Wil, are you going to wear that sweater again?" 

"I don't know," Wilbur says, tightly gripping the sweater. "I haven't worn it in such a long time, I don't know if I'll be able to fit, even." 

"I think it'll be fine! Yellows a good colour on you, son," Phil places a hand on the sweater. "It's got to be weird wearing your old clothes again, huh?" 

Wilbur nods and clutches it close to his chest. "This used to be my favorite sweater," he whispers, and Phil looks at him and can't help but wonder what else the war had taken from him, from the rest of his sons.

"I- uh," Wilbur starts, looking a bit embarrassed. "I was thinking about calling you, once or twice, and asking you to deliver this sweater. Or asking to go and get this sweater from your house. I never did, of course, there was a war, but I kept thinking of it and thinking of it. It's a bit odd to see an object that you've marked as a symbol of hope for yourself in the flesh." 

Phil hums and places his book back on the shelf. "I've been the same way. It's a weird feeling to see something you've only remembered for so long actually be in front of you." 

They continue to clean, keeping themselves busy through their individual tasks. They work quietly, a jukebox playing soft music so they aren't cleaning in complete silence. All was going well, and Wilbur decides to speak again. 

"It's weird, isn't it? Coming back to this house after a long time in Hardcore?" 

"What do you mean?"

"It's weird to see that your house is exactly the way you left it. That it's not been tampered with. I mean, you're grateful it hasn't been tampered with, but it's just weir to see that it's all the same. You know the feeling?" 

Phil nods. "Especially when you've been through something so life-changing. You expect your house to be different but it's not." 

Wilbur hums and finally sets the sweater down on his desk. "Let's keep cleaning," he says, picking up a box of papers. "This room really needs it." 

Phil returns to dusting the top of the books, and behind him he hears the rustling of fabric. And if Wilbur shows up to dinner with a yellow sweater on instead of a long-sleeved t-shirt, he doesn't say anything but "I'm proud of you, Wilbur."

And if Wilbur turns his face away to hide his teary eyes, he doesn't say anything about that, either. 

**_~*~_ **

Phil wakes up to the sound of a shout. He bursts out of bed, ready to attack, but then remembers that Wilbur was staying with him. He relaxes, but then quickly pick his worry back up. Was Wilbur okay? Was he getting attacked? What was going on? He walked down the hall carefully and slowly, giving himself more time than he probably should have to make himself appear non-threatening.

When he opens the door, he finds Wilbur hunched up on his bed, his knees drawn to his chest, and gently quivering. He's silently sobbing, and Phil has to hover around him until he can find a way to comfort him. He finally settles on a hug, and takes Wilbur into his arms, wrapping his wings around Wilbur the same way he did when he was a kid. 

Wilbur flinches away immediately, which was concerning on so many levels, but Phil waits for Wilbur to recognize who he is. Once Wilbur gets his bearings he sinks into Phil's arms and buries his head in Phil's shoulder, sobbing quietly. Phil rubs comforting circles on his back and breathes deeply and deliberately, trying to get Wilbur to calm down from his lingering haze of nightmare. 

"Phil, I was back there- I was- There was- and Tommy- and-"

"Hey, hey hey," Phil shushes. "It's okay. You're here now, you're safe, there's no war, you're _safe_." 

"But it all felt so _real_ ," Wilbur gasps out. "It felt like I was there again, it felt like I'd let everyone down again, had thrown them into _another_ fight that they couldn't win, that- I-" Wilbur makes a noise of frustration and curls into himself. "I couldn't protect them. It was stupid of- of me to think I ever could." 

"Hey, I get it. I don't always feel like I'm able to protect you or your siblings, I know how it feels to have their safety out of your control." 

Wilbur peeks up. "But- Tommy and Tubbo are _kids_ , Dad. Me and Techno are _adults_. We can handle ourselves, we know when to stop. Tommy and Tubbo _don't_." 

"You weren't always adults, Wil. Or have you forgotten training with Techno? Making fun with Tommy? You're all still kids in my eyes, you'll always be my kids. Not being able to help you out with the wars- That hurt me." 

"'M sorry for fighting all the time," Wilbur says, leaning into him a bit more. For a few minutes, Phil let him, Wilbur's breathing evening out. Upon further inspection, he discovered that Wilbur was actually back asleep. 

Phil chuckled and set him down, tucking him in. He presses a kiss to the crown of Wilbur's head and starts to leave, but as soon as he pulled away Wilbur made a noise of distress, and Phil decided that he may as well stay in the room for a couple hours before he left. 

**_~*~_ **

Wilbur's standing outside. This was uncommon, because he had a hard time leaving his room most days, but it was even more so because it was _pouring_. And he was _smiling_. 

Phil opens up a window, risking splashes on his window sill. 

"Wil, come inside! You'll catch a cold!" 

"But it's raining, Phil!" Wilbur laughs. He pushes his glasses higher on his face. "I haven't been able to enjoy the rain since- like- the world ended!" 

"Wil you're gonna get sick!" 

"It's _summer_ , there's nothing that's stopping me from enjoying this!" 

"Wil!" 

"Come and get me yourself if you want me to come inside, Phil!" Wilbur teases, spinning around. "Come _outside_ , it's so nice!" 

Phil rolls his eyes and grabs a raincoat, tucking his wings in. He walks out of the house and immediately gets splashed with water. Wilbur laughs at the look on his face, and jumps again, getting even _more_ water all over Phil. 

"Prime, Wil! Leave me alone!" 

Wilbur sticks out his tongue. "You're no fun." 

"You're going to get your glasses all messed up- you don't even _need_ them right now?" 

"Semantics," Wilbur brushes off. "I'm having _fun_ , Phil." 

"Then have fun sitting down, _dry_ , in a place where you won't get wet and sick. You can enjoy the rain from the porch as well as playing in it." 

"I guess. But I can't _feel_ the rain on my skin, I can't _catch_ the rain in my mouth, I can't..." 

Wilbur continues fake complaining all the way to the porch, sitting down on one of the chairs that were set out. Phil follows him to the porch, mentally checking the various ingredients he could use for soup. "I like the rain, too."

Phil and Wilbur take some time to watch the rain fall, taking some time to sit and rest in each other's presence. They had been doing that a lot lately, but Phil was always glad to spend some quality time with his son, no matter how suffocating that made him feel. 

"Did you know," Wil says quietly after a few minutes. "that some people who have gone through a lot like the rain more than others?" 

"Really?" 

"It's pretty. It's good white noise. Makes them feel like they're not alone, but in a good way. I just think the rain feels nice." 

They sit like that for a moment longer, and then Wilbur sneezes. He was always sensitive to the cold, Phil remembers fondly. "Let's go inside, Wil." 

"...Alright." 

Phil takes Wilbur inside and into a bathroom to dry his hair off, and Wilbur grins in a near-insane manner. 

"You are a menace to society," Phil grumbles. Wilbur laughs and grabs a towel to dry his hair. 

**_~*~_ **

Wilbur opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

"Phil, do I deserve to be redeemed?"

The question catches Phil off guard. It's a bit too heavy of a topic to be talked about in the middle of repairing tools, but he supposes it's better sooner than later. He sets down his iron sword and turns to face his son. "Wilbur, of _course_ you deserve to get redeemed. Everyone does, even if they've done bad things. What makes you think this rule is any different for you?"

Wilbur toys with the sleeves of his sweater and looks away. "I don't know, it's just-" He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I killed people, Dad. I threw Tommy and Tubbo into a war they didn't start, had no place fighting in, I made my son and Eret turn against their friends, I led everyone to disaster- I even blew up L'Manberg! I hurt the people I _care_ about, Phil, I don't think that deserves a redemption arc." 

Phil looks at his son, at the little boy that he'd taken into his nest, and sees someone too in over their head, a kid too stressed and too tired to understand his father's love for him. Phil walks over, setting down his polishing cloth. He places his hands on Wilbur's shoulders and comes in close. "Wilbur, you made mistakes," He says. Wilbur finches, but Phil continues to press on. "You made mistakes, but you _regret_ them. You're doing better than most cardboard cutout villains, I'd think. You deserve redemption _because_ you regret it all."

Wilbur scrubs away tears in a way that he thinks is discreet, but Phil knows better. He ruffles Wilbur's hair and kisses his forehead. "You're my son, Wil, and you will _always_ deserve to be happy. You will _always_ deserve to be safe, and you will _always_ be loved." 

That's when Wilbur truly breaks down, letting out a broken sob and pressing a hand to his face. He slowly reaches out for a hug, and Phil gives it to him, twining fingers in his hair and letting his feathers be a comforting blanket around his son. 

Wilbur pulls away and pats his face with the sleeves of his sweater. He takes a few steps back and takes a sip of his water bottle. "Thanks, Phil." 

Phil fans his face softly with his wings. "Anytime, son."

"I just- thank you for believing in me." 

Wilbur nods and sets his water bottle down on the workbench, Phil taking that to mean that the topic is done with. "If you wanna help out a bit more," he says. "There's a pile of gold armour in the corner there that needs smelting down." 

Wilbur nods and walks off, still a little shaky. Phil smiles after him, content with the knowledge that his son is allowing himself to get better. 

**_~*~_ **

"Wil, come look at this," Phil says. He's rummaging through their general storage, and he pulls out a large object. Wilbur walks over to him and looks over his shoulder, carrying a shulker box full of wool. 

"My old guitar?" Wilbur sets down the wool and stares at the instrument in something a little like awe. 

"Yeah. Do you want to try and play it again?" 

Wilbur takes a step back. "Phil, I- I don't know if I can anymore."

"Just try," he urges, holding out the guitar. Wilbur looks at it with hesitant eyes, and his hands itch to play. Phil holds it out even further, and Wilbur gently takes it from his father.

He runs his trembling hands over the familiar wood. He positions it just right, letting his fingers sink into the grooves his hands left years ago. He tests out the strings, falling back into the pattern of tuning it as best as he can. 

Wilbur's hands fall into place, gently strumming an F, a Bb, a Bbmaj7, and then fingerpicking them. He creates a haunting, familiar melody to Phil, who smiles softly at his son making music again.

Wilbur plays a few bars, takes a deep breath, and starts to sing. 

**_~*~_ **

_God boy gets up and he talks to his friends in the mirror_ _  
_ _And he sees my mouth moving where his should be_ _  
_ _Telling him he is too big for his body_ _  
_ _That he's got the antidote America needs_

Phil sets up his laptop on the coffee table in the living room, pressing a lot of buttons very quickly. A decent amount of it was, admittedly, for dramatic effect, but it was fun to do. All he really needed was to press a single button then he would be done. 

With a heavy heart mourning the dramatics he never got to carry out, he presses 'enter' and up came a loading screen. Within seconds, the video call connected, and he was staring into the excited faces of Tommy and Tubbo. 

"Phil!" Tommy cackles. "Did you know that Tubbo here is running a _black market_?" 

"A _what_?" 

"It's not- it's not a black market, Phil, it's like- uh- an underground, secret business that's illegal!" Tubbo says, attempting to cover Tommy's mouth. He promptly pulls it away and wipes it on his shirt. "Ew! You licked me!" 

"Prime," Phil laughs, Tommy's pleased cat expression too much to bear. "Is this the kind of shit I'm missing out on?" 

"Not _missing out_ , per se," Tubbo muses. "More like _'Oh Prime I'm so glad I don't have to deal with this.'_ "

Phil covers his hand with his mouth and snorts. "It's almost like I'm there!" 

Tommy and Tubbo excitedly tell him about the potion-laced honey Tubbo was making, and in turn he tells them his progress on his builds, on the house. They're all avoiding the elephant in the room, but they all know that if they bring up Wilbur they're not sure if they'd be able to get back to lighthearted. 

"So Phil, the way it works is that you take the tiniest bit of glistering melon, and you let it soak in the honey for, what, a few hours? and then you-" Tubbo cuts himself off, listening to something in the background. Tommy tries to speak, but he's quickly shushed by his friend. Finally, Phil registers that Wilbur is plunking out a tune on the guitar upstairs, and that the younger two would probably be able to hear it. 

Dammit. 

**_~*~_ **

_And so I'm talking about drugs and their adverse effects_ _  
_ _Like people do when they've lost a friend_ _  
_ _But I think it was me and not the drugs in the end_ _  
_ _'Cause God knows I have lost myself a veritable few of them_

"Hey, don't you need to go work on the Nether Void?" Wilbur asks one day. They're sitting in the living room together, Wilbur reading a book and Phil typing out something on his laptop. Phil looks at him over the top of the device and nods slowly. 

"I mean, yeah, but you're more important."

"But the NetherVoid is important too, it's part of your life's work."

"Right now I'm focusing on you, Wil. The NetherVoid isn't going anywhere." 

Wilbur shrugs. "I just- I don't know. What if I went and helped you with it?"

Phil laughs shortly, shock overtaking the implications of laughter. "Help would be a strong word, Wilbur. I keep a lot of the plans in my head, and-"

"I mean, like, fetching water and concrete or whatever you need, Phil. Not, like, making integral architectural designs."

"Are you sure? If you die, you're not going to respawn normally, you're going to be a ghost until you come back to a regular world. I know you don't like to die under normal circumstances, even, so..."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I mean- I'll try my hardest, but as long as you help me out with, like reasonable armour and stuff I think I'll be fine."

"Ah, what the Hell," Phil says. "I'm not gonna work on it today, but you can have a tour." 

Wilbur pumps his fist and runs to go put his book away, and Phil watches him go in amusement. He's happy that his son is so enthusiastic about something, he supposes, and he prepares to make the shift between worlds. 

Wilbur spawns outside, which is fine, but Phil has him set his spawn in the house just in case. Before the light even fades all the way, Wilbur's already sprinting towards the Nether portal. Phil catches him before he can jump through and clears his throat. 

"Armour, Wil." 

Wil gives him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Dad." 

Phil fits Wilbur into his backup armour, strapping him into an elytra, and handing him a few stacks of fireworks. "Now, don't bee too hasty because the portal-" 

"Yeah, yeah, I got it!" Wilbur calls. He runs into the portal and Phil follows shortly after, and when he get on the other side he sees Wilbur coughing, clearly not used to the air of the Nether roof. 

"Now, did we learn our lesson?" 

"Yes, Dad," Wilbur says with a roll of his eyes. "Now let's _go_ already!" 

"Prime, Wil, you're acting like you're five." 

"I'm just _really really_ excited." 

Phil chuckles and shows him to the ladder into the Void. "Here, be careful not to-" 

Wilbur cuts him off with a yell of excitement as he drops down the hole, opening his elytra to float down to the floor. He places a hand on the towers of leaves and blackstone alike, and he stares in wonder at the giant crystal Phil created to house the wither farm. Phil lands next to him, and he turns to Phil with so much excitement it throws him a little off. 

"Phil, this is so cool!"

"Be careful not to chip the glass, Wil-"

Phil laughs as he watches Wilbur slide around on the floor, the glowing pink reflection from the borrowed armour bouncing around throughout the Void. He flies up to the quartz castle with his elytra, kneeling to see the biomes in the floors. Phil catches up with him when he's laying down on his back, looking at the teal roof. He smiles and turns to his father. 

"Phil, you've put so much work into this. It really looks amazing." 

Phil looks at Wilbur's face, so full of love and wonder, and sees that he's still the same Wilbur from so long ago. Phil lays down next to his son, happy for a moment of peace shared between them. 

**_~*~_ **

_Don't let me give you my light it will blind you  
_ _I'll love you and leave you there searching to find you  
_ _Ain't that what they say at the meetings for those in my wake_

Soft guitar started to echo around the small house, and it was clear that the boys on the other call could hear it.

"Phil, what's that music? I don't think that's any Disc, is it?" Tubbo asks. He was always too perceptive for his own good. 

"Ah, Wil's starting up the guitar again." Phil leans back. "I'm happy for him, it's been far too long since I've heard him play."

"Wilbur's playing the guitar again?" came a new voice. Niki leans into the camera. She looks happy, wearing a fitted blue suit. "That's good! Tell him he needs to take back the pick he lent me, okay?" 

"You going to some sort of event, Niki?" 

"Yeah!" she says. "Tubbo's making a speech today at noon, and he _should_ be getting ready right now. Actually-" she shoots the boys a look. "You're going to be late if you put it off for much longer. We've still got to get there!"

"We wanted to call Phil!" Tommy huffed. "Is talking to your dad such a crime?" 

"Only when it makes you _late_ to your own speech!" 

Tubbo stands up. "I'll go get ready, Tommy can finish up chatting with Phil. Bye!" 

Tubbo waves goodbye to the camera and leaves with Niki, who's fiddling with a jeweled hairpin. They close the door, leaving Tommy alone on the call with Phil. "I've missed you, you know," he says lowly. "Techno's missed you." 

Phil nods. "I know. I'll come visit soon, I promise, I just-"

"Yeah, yeah I know. Wilbur needs your attention or whatever. I get it." 

They both go quiet, the sounds of the guitar fading away. Phil hears footsteps coming down the stairs and down the hall, pausing outside the door to the living room. Phil knows Wilbur's listening in, but elects to ignore it in favour of letting Wilbur hear their thoughts. 

"You can bring him, too, you know," Tommy says. Phil looks at his youngest son, surprised at the level of maturity. "I'm sure Techno wouldn't mind. Or Tubbo. Or Niki. Or-" Tommy's breath hitches. "Or me." 

"Oh Tommy," Phil whispers. "I can see what I can do. It's going to be a slow process, but I'm sure he can visit soon enough. If he's okay with being alone I can come patch up those creeper holes-" Tommy chuckles. "-but I'll talk to him. I can go get him if you want to talk to him yourself, but he'll also have to agree." 

Tommy perks up. "Could you? I haven't- I want to see how he is." 

"I'll go grab him." Phil stands up and walks out, turning the corner to look at Wilbur. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "Do you want to go on call with Tommy? It's just him at the moment." 

Wilbur takes a second to respond. "Y- yeah."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Wil."

"I- I do. I do want to."

"Alright. The laptop is on the couch." 

Wilbur takes a deep breath and nods, steeling his shoulders and walking to sit down in front of the camera. "Hey, Tommy." 

"Wilbur!" Came the loud response. "What's up, big man? What have you been up to? What's going on with your hair, did you get a haircut? Hey! You're wearing your sweater again! What's going on with-" 

Phil listens to Tommy's rambling from the side, smiling when more shouts of joy come from the speakers. They catch up, Wilbur looking nervous, but he looks over at Phil for reassurance and relaxes when Phil gives him a thumbs up. Eventually, the group has to leave for the speech, and Phil shuts the laptop when the call disconnects. 

"So? How was that?" 

"It was... better than I thought it would be. I'm glad that I did that."

Phil grins and ruffles his hair. "I'm proud of you. You want a sweet or something to celebrate talking to them again?"

Wilbur laughs at that, but stands up and makes a beeline to the kitchen. Phil trails after him, so very happy that Wilbur finally is allowing himself to heal. 

**_~*~_ **

_"Well I thought I was Eve but I guess I'm the snake."_

Wilbur sings this last line as he fingerpicks a few more notes, letting his hands go limp and his grip on the guitar loosen. He hesitates before slinging it back over his shoulder, keeping it on his person. 

"Thanks for that," he mumbles. "I missed playing." 

"I'm glad you're still able to," Phil admits. "I've missed hearing your music around the house." 

Wilbur looks at him in subtle shock. "You missed it?"

"Yeah. It's been awfully quiet since you all left to go fight for your country." 

"Well," Wilbur says, picking up the wool shulker again. "Maybe you won't be so cold anymore." 

**_~*~_ **

_"I do know loss, and I know what it can do to you. Make you feel like your life's not worth nothin'. That all the joy and pleasure in the world has been locked away; just not an option for someone like you anymore. I know that feeling, I swear... One day, believe it or not, you're gonna laugh at a joke. You're gonna go swimming. You're gonna smile in the sunlight. You're gonna pet yourself a good dog, and it's gonna make you feel happy."_

_-Griffin McElroy_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! if you like the way i write wilbur, i have also written [Understanding your position as King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128989), where wilbur blows up l'manberg, and [Privately Owned Spiral Galaxy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371202), a magnus archives crossover fic where wilbur is a supernatural entity (with more in the series).
> 
> my friend also wrote a song based on his arc called [disappear](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhrOB0nFqA0), and recently released one about dream entitled [this kingdom is mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTnKp_G3aaU). please go check her out if you liked this!!


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